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COPmiGHT DEPOSIT. 



My Galahad of the Trenches 




Lieutenant Vinton Adams Bearing. 
Bom, January 2, 1896. Killed in Action, July 18, 191 



My Galahad 

of the Trenches 



Being a Collection of Intimate Letters of 
LIEUT. VINTON A. BEARING 




New York Chicago 

Fleming H. Revell Company 

London and Edinburgh 



Copyright, 1918, by 
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 



13 



^< 



Printed in the United States of America 



JAN I7!9!3 



New York: 158 Fifth Avenue 
Chicago: 17 North Wabash Ave. 
London : 2 1 Paternoster Square 
Edinburgh: 75 Princes Street 



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(P>.p.\ AT. 1 2 OR 6 



Dedicated to Mothers 

who have given their sons to fight and die 
for the highest ideals of faith and truths 
and who for the sake of their heroes and 
the cause for which these young heroes 
gave their lives must keep a good hearty 
be of good courage and ^^ keep smiling ^^ 



Extract of Gen. Pershing^s Commu- 
nique of August 26, 1918. 

Lt. Vinton A. Bearing : ** detailed in 
command of a carrying party on 28th of 
May, 1 918, near Cantigny, France, he 
bravely proceeded under fire to execute his 
mission, and by his example of bravery 
heartened his men who were under fire for 
the first time. On 29th of May, 19 18, he 
took his party through heavy shelling to 
carry ammunition to the front lines without 
being ordered to do so." 

For this Lieutenant Dearing 
was awarded the Distinguished 
Service Cross posthumously by 
Gen. Pershing. 



Introduction 

THESE letters from my Galahad of 
the trenches were not written for 
publication. They were written to 
me, his mother, and to two or three of his 
friends, in all the privacy and intimacy of 
very deep and wonderful relationships. 

My reason for giving them to the world 
is that they may bless the mothers of sons 
over-seas who may read them, and may 
perhaps teach some would-be soldiers the 
articulate expression of love. For like a 
golden thread through them all, runs the 
love of a high-hearted soldier who went 
forth to do battle for his mother and all 
who meant so much to him, and gladly gave 
all for his ideals. It is just that quality in 
these letters that makes them shine like stars 
on a dark night, in this sick and sorry time. 

In order that the letters may be under- 
stood and appreciated, I must give a little 
9 



10 INTEODUCTION 

sketch of the life, which, though ended at 
twenty-two, has touched and blessed in three 
continents every one whom my boy met. 

Vinton Adams Dearing was born in Yoko- 
hama, Japan. There he lived until he was 
sixteen, except for two furloughs in Boston — 
the first time when he was three, and again 
when he was twelve. At our home in 
Yokohama where we lived on the edge of 
the East, and where his father was a well- 
known man in educational and religious 
circles, Vinton and his elder brother Henry 
met, constantly, men and women of culture 
and high purpose from all over the world. 
They were never excluded from the dinner- 
table where questions of great moment in 
eastern matters were daily discussed. So 
they grew up in an atmosphere of world- 
wide vision and cosmopolitan interests. But 
more than that ; in the sweetness of the 
family life, in intimate, loving communion 
with their father and mother, around the 
open fire, or on the sweet, sunny lawn of our 
home, at 75 Blufi, in the house or garden, at 
play, study or work, they drew in with every 
breath the wonderful love of home and 



INTEODUCTION 11 

family, and the expression of that love, that 
comes out so plainly in these letters from 
Vinton. 

I used to think that Vinton was the most 
adorable little child in the world. He gave 
out affection as naturally as the sun gives 
out light. His dear red head was never far 
from his mother if he were in the house, and 
his expressions of affection were unending. 
His love showed itself in constant thought- 
fulness. A dozen times a day, his eager 
young voice would be heard calling up the 
stairs, " Anything I can do for you, mother 
dear? " ** Any errand I can go on for you, 
father?" Little love notes were sent up- 
stairs by the amah as surprises. Or I would 
find a litde love-token pinned to my cushion, 
and the pet names and expressions he used 
filled my soul with joy. He was none the 
less a real boy, loving play, having scraps 
with his elder brother, throwing himself into 
competition and sports with all his heart, but 
never forgetting the tenderer, sweeter, gentler 
things of life. He was full of fun, also— the 
kind that makes fun for other boys, and yet 
through it all, always a gentleman with de- 



12 INTEODUCTION 

lightful manners and a quiet reserve which 
never left him. 

At sixteen he came home from Japan to 
join his elder brother at Colgate University, 
leaving an empty place in our home which 
we tried to fill with precious memories of 
him. His letters during his four years of 
college life showed the boy growing into a 
man, reaching out to high ideals of leader- 
ship and service, yet always in his own esti- 
mation falling short of the goal he had set. 

Those letters were very precious to us, for 
though Vinton was a quiet boy and developed 
slowly, we realized that he had in him the 
making of an unusual man — that he was be- 
ing prepared for some great work in the 
world. He entered into college life with all 
his heart, loving his books, his sports, his 
fraternity-life and his friendships. Every one 
loved him, for his gentle sweetness and his 
great sincerity and truth. It was during 
these college days that he earned the name I 
have used in the title of my little book — *' Sir 
Galahad." Over and over again women 
who knew him, girls who associated with him, 
quite unconscious that any one had ever 



INTEODUCTION 13 

called him by this name, would dub him 
"Sir Galahad." His knightly quaUties of 
soul and his gentle deference and thoughtful 
attentions to all women placed him in the 
Hall of King Arthur's Knights — the most 
knightly of them all. 

We came home from Japan in 1916 and 
joined our sons at Colgate, startled and de- 
lighted at the change in the boys we had not 
seen for four and six years respectively. 
Vinton was a junior, Hal just graduating. 
The months that followed were full of start- 
ling events. First, our eldest son was sent to 
London in training for banking in the Far 
East. The boys' beloved father was taken 
from us while giving a course of lectures at 
Colgate University. Then, when Vinton felt 
he was his mother's mainstay, came the 
gathering of the war clouds. I knew my boy 
well enough to know he would want to enlist, 
but with all my heart I rebelled. I had not 
as yet risen to my privilege and duty. I tried 
to anticipate what I knew was coming, by 
asking him not to enlist before telling me. 
Later I begged him if he felt he must go, to 
go as a Y. M. C. A. worker or to enter 



14 INTEODUCTION 

into some safe Government work on this 
side. 

But there came a day when I realized my 
mistake. One morning early in May I took 
up my pen, and with the tears rolling down 
my cheeks wrote, — ** My darling Vinton : I 
want you to go, and you go with my bless- 
ing. Mother." I had not put the letter into 
its envelope when the bell rang, and there 
in my doorway stood my great, tall boy, 
with his suit-case in his hand and a new look 
of heroic determination on his face. " Oh, 
Vinton," I said, ** this means just one thing." 
" Yes, mother," he replied, *' I had to." For 
answer I put the little note, which was not 
even yet dry, into his hand. There was no 
need of any further words between us. So 
college days were over and my precious boy 
left the kind of life he loved, and turning his 
back on home and mother, went away to 
camp to become a soldier. I will not speak 
of the hurt in my heart except to say that it 
was very deep and very keen, for I had not 
then learned to be a soldier*s mother. I will 
not speak of disappointed hopes, for we three 
who were left had planned a home in the Far 



INTEODUCTIOH 16 

East as nearly like the dear old home of the 
boys* childhood as possible, and our dreams 
were shattered. 

Vinton was sent to Madison Barracks in 
the R. O. T. C. The letters from camp 
were very interesting. Like most Ameri- 
can boys, he had never had any military 
training, and I fancy it took him some time 
to attain a military air, but whatever he 
undertook he did with the determination to 
win out, so his three months at Madison Bar- 
racks developed him into a soldier. Most of 
the men were college men, and Vinton often 
wrote that it was more like an intercollegiate 
meet than a camp. He was very happy at 
first, but as the end of camp approached and 
scores of men were being rejected each day, 
his agitation lest he too be sent home was in- 
tense. The result was not what he hoped. 
He was recommended for the second camp, 
and after a blissful week together at his 
aunt's beautiful home by the sea, he went to 
Fort Niagara to complete his training, feeling 
more confident of himself, and with the same 
dogged determination to win out. This was 
the second parting. 



16 INTEODUCTION 

At Fort Niagara he was especially trained 
in leadership, and through his letters I could 
see how high an ideal he had set before him. 
Donald Hankey's " Beloved Captain " he read 
and reread, and those high standards en- 
tered into his soul. In November he got his 
commission. He was given his choice of a 
Second Lieutenantcy Infantry, in the Regular 
Army, or a First in the Reserves. He chose 
the former, though it meant going over seas 
perhaps at once. When my new officer son 
came home from his second camp I went into 
the South Station to meet him. It was early 
morning and in his grand new uniform and 
overcoat, he looked to my proud eyes the 
most wonderful officer in the whole United 
States Army! The first question I put to 
him as he sat eating breakfast in the South 
Station restaurant was, " To what camp will 
you be sent now, Vinton ? " His answer so 
unexpected and terrifying sent a shudder 
right through me. But I smiled back into 
his loving, tender eyes, though my heart was 
breaking, as he answered : " To an embarka- 
tion camp, mother dear." 

Then for five exquisite weeks we had our 



INTEODUCTIOK 17 

soldier at home and what a precious time it 
was ! We did not talk of the parting, we 
lived in the joy of a glorious comradeship. 
Every day was a red-letter day from dawn to 
close, and at the end, no matter how late, he 
would come and lie down on my couch for a 
quiet half hour's talk before he went to bed. 
We shopped for his equipment, like two 
young things buying household furniture. 
We teaed and supped at funny litde restau- 
rants in town. We made many calls to- 
gether. Vinton, like all officers on leave, 
was feted and admired by his girl friends, 
and the evenings were often spent at parties 
which gave him the touch of gaiety he had 
been without at camp. But best of all were 
the delightful times by our glowing fire with 
a few friends, sometimes alone, but always 
gloriously happy in each other. In both our 
minds was the spectre of the parting, but we 
spoke of it not at all, and one morning, 
gloomy and dark and wet, a little party of 
four motored into the South Station to bid 
him "good-bye." We had promised our- 
selves not to weep, although that clutch at 
the heart was stifling us. 



18 INTRODUCTION 

We had had our last talk at home, and the 
last big hugs that were too big for any one 
else to see. There was grandmother who 
begged to go and promised not to shed a 
tear ; there were his two best girl friends and 
his mother. We stood in a little group try- 
ing to be gay, and succeeding. Then the 
last long kiss, and we watched our tall sol- 
dier glide out of that dusky, dirty station, 
and saw his wonderful smile illumine all its 
darkness, and knew he was going forth to 
battle for us, and turned away, and let our 
breaking hearts have their way. But he 
went with his mother's smile, and over and 
over he has told of his appreciation and 
gratitude. 

How well it is we do not know the future 1 
I believed with all my soul that my boy 
would come back to me even as he went, 
beautiful as the morning, strong with the 
strength of ten, a glorious soldier, my Gala- 
had, my love-child. But he lies in sunny 
France, and a little wooden cross marks his 
resting-place, and next spring the poppies 
will grow on his grave, and he is not coming 
back. 



INTRODUCTION 19 

In writing this sketch I feel it will not be 
complete without a word of loving apprecia- 
tion of the father of this remarkable boy. 
Dr. John Lincoln Dearing, whose name is 
revered and loved throughout the Far East 
as a ** great missionary statesman," and as 
the " Apostle of Cooperation," lived and died 
so heroically and gloriously that it is little 
wonder that his son was the hero that he 
proved. The same strength of character, 
the same mighty soul living for his ideals 
and dying in the carrying out of those ideals, 
the same indomitable purpose, and the same 
broad conception of duty, these are seen in 
the son as in the father. The missionary 
father won no decorative cross from his 
Commander, yet in a very real and definite 
way he bore the cross for twenty-seven years 
in Japan, and he won the victor's crown as 
truly as did the son win his Cross on the field 
of honor. 

It is the spirit of the old motto of *' No- 
blesse oblige^^ that worked out in my two 
heroes. They both died as they had lived — 
victoriously. And Vinton crowded into his 
six months in France as much as would or- 



20 INTEODUCTION 

dinarily be crowded into a lifetime. A boy 
of twenty-two, recommended by his Major, 
cited by Major- General Bullard, chosen as 
one of the staff officers in the great Bastile 
Day parade, awarded the Distinguished 
Service Cross by General Pershing, placed 
among the '* heroes of the great war," — such 
is his record. The day before he fell in the 
second battle of the Marne, on the Paris-Sois- 
sons road, July i8th, the great day of victory, 
the turning-point in the whole war for free- 
dom, I received his last cabled message. It 
came from the glowing soul of a valiant 
hero, mindful to the last of her whom 
he loved. It simply said, "Keep smiling. 
Love." 

Mary Hinckley Dearing. 



My Galahad of the 
Trenches 

HIS LETTERS 

At Sea. 
Dearest Mother : 

After two days of being seasick, and 
you know what that means, I am beginning 
to feel much better. I don't know whether 
it was the vacation or what that made my 
stomach so susceptible. We have a fine 
bunch of officers on board of whom I know 
ten or eleven. The average American of- 
ficer we meet is what Coningsby Dawson 
calls a " civilian in uniform." 

Yes, we are really on our way, and it was 
a strange sensation as we left port to see the 
faces of the different men, pardy wistful, 
partly eager, with the knowledge that they 
were really starting. And then there was 
the small group of people to see us off, just 
rough workmen and steamship agents, and 

21 



22 MY GALAHAD 

yet there was an expression in their faces 
that will remain in my mind a long time as 
they waved good-bye, especially one man, a 
one-armed guard, who saluted and smiled at 
me as the boat slowly drifted out. Then 
there was the confusion of getting our state- 
rooms and meeting the men, but as yet we 
haven't found out much about each other, 
due to the fact that we were not in condition 
to do so. When we came opposite Boston, 
how I wished I could fly there and say good- 
morning. I could see you and grandmother 
having breakfast and including me in the 
blessing. I do need it, and more and more 
as the days go by. I have a wonderful month 
to remember, however, and it will always 
stand by me, especially the last two nights 
when Louise and Peggy and we two alone 
were there respectively. How perfectly won- 
derful you were to me all through my va- 
cation I You were far too good. I have 
been reading from Tennyson on board — tell 
Peggy this — and 1 wrote you about Louise 
sending a copy of Browning to me, didn't I ? 
Oh, think, I shall have to go days now with- 
out a letter from you, but the very fact that 



OF THE TEENCHES 23 

you are thinking of me is encouragement in 
itself. A fact like this doesn't have to be 
written, I know, although it is nice to say it 
in writing. I do a lot of thinking about you, 
and I am so glad I had all that long period 
at Cambridge with you. It is strange the 
different sensations you have as you arrive 
at different stages of the game, but one thing, 
I have no qualms of conscience, and I did 
have them at college occasionally when I 
felt I was not getting enough out of it to 
make it worth fathers paying his money for 
me. Now I feel I got the best out of college 
except that I was too protected and did not 
come into contact with the rougher element, 
a thing I shall have to learn now. I am just 
as proud of you as I can be. You surely 
were a wonderful mother to let me go the 
way you did. I hope you can see me come 
back some day with my Sam Browne belt 
on, some stripes and a change in rank, who 
knows. Our boat is dark at night, the port- 
holes are closed, smoking is prohibited, and 
the salon shaded with blue lights, almost 
dark enough to prohibit reading and almost 
everything else. It is going to be a hard 



24 MY GALAHAD 

struggle, but I have absolute faith in the 
final outcome. It is great to be living in 
this age and to be in the midst of it. The 
thing now is to be a counting force rather 
than a "shave-tail" lieutenant. Thus our 
ambitions increase ; at first just the thought 
of enlisting, then of getting a commission, 
then of getting to France, and now of doing 
something in the struggle that may be worth 
while. How is grandmother ? Give her my 
best love. Tell her I think a great deal 
about her, and tell her she has got to keep 
just as young and good-looking as ever, so 
when I get back we can go to see another 
play together. And I know you will do it 
for my sake and you will not worry about 
dangers, for I may not be in them and you 
know it is worry that makes you grow old. 
I have had some serious talks with fellows I 
am most intimate with and it helps me to 
get another^s view-points of matters, espe- 
cially their ideas as to how they will come in 
contact with men under them. I must close 
with heaps of love. 

Always your 

Vinton. 



OF THE TEENCHES 26 

At Sea. 
Dear Peggy : 

I am going to take advantage of you 
right from the start, and so this will be a con- 
tinuous letter to the end of our journey when- 
ever I feel like writing. Oh, how many 
things flood my mind, especially when I walk 
out on the deck alone, and all is dark except 
for the light of the moon shining down full 
and strong. Then I think of Cambridge and 
mother and you, and maybe I wish I were 
there a little bit too. I begin to see things 
in a strangely different light from what I used 
to, and yet I am so blind to some things. 
My eyes are in a way untrained to see 
things, to see the under-currents where the 
water runs evenly along. I am always too 
willing to be satisfied with the oiled surface. 
In a way it saves you a lot, but it isn't the 
best or most wholesome. I have done a 
great deal of thinking since I have been on 
board, and I realize I have a long way to go 
before I am prepared to take charge of a 
group of men in a life and death matter. 
But I feel that my heart is right, and that 
goes a long way. It is the daily thoughts 



26 MY GALAHAD 

we think that insure us victory or defeat, 
and I begin to realize that more and more 
strongly. What a wonderful thing our mind 
is and how easily we tamper with it and get 
it out of order without the slightest regard to 
the fact that some day in a storfn that mental 
compass of ours may guide us safely through, 
or we may have got it so out of gear that we 
are dashed upon the rocks. You wouldn't 
think it, but I am sitting on deck in a steamer 
chair with the boat rolling quite a little, but 
feeling fit. Your little Tennyson has been 
a Godsend, and others have asked to bor- 
row it already. I love it for its own sake 
and a great deal more because you gave it 
to me. 

You don't know how glad I am that I am 
here, that I really may be of some value, and 
the only way is to be master of all the differ- 
ent branches of service. I have thought 
often and often of mother on this voyage. I 
hope she hasn't worried unduly. She is a 
wonderful mother. I feel so proud of her 
that she sent me off as she did. Give my 
regards to all the family. As I look over 
this vast ocean I see you and others back 



OF THE TEEKCHBS 27 

of me and it gives me a feeling of do or 

die. 

Lovingly your brother, 

Pink. 

Somewhere in France, February 3. 
Dearest Mother : 

I haven't reached my final destination 
yet but I am on my way, and in the mean- 
time living through lots of strange and last- 
ing experiences. The farther you go into it 
the more you realize the meaning of this 
war, and the fine uniforms gradually grow 
less important. Here you see tall troopers 
in stained uniforms loaded down with gas 
masks and other paraphernalia, but they 
come up with snappy salutes, which is more 
than you can say of those you see on Fifth 
Avenue or Boylston Street. Last night some 
English officers passed through straight from 
the front, and it was quite a sight to see our 
fellows gather in little groups about each of 
these war-worn veterans and listen to their 
words of wisdom. They had some pretty 
interesting tales to tell. Coming across the 
channel was the coldest night I ever spent. 
We had no beds and one very small cabin 



28 MY GALAHAD 

which was piled full of officers. There was 
no sleeping, and most of us suffered from the 
cold up on deck, but that is just one of the 
things that build up our experiences. We 
came over with all kinds of troops. There 
were Australians and English and Americans 
and lots of others. Just to hear them talk is 
great. Here in the officers' lounging room, 
half full now with English, half with Ameri- 
cans, it is a remarkable sight. You are con- 
stantly in my thoughts and heaps of love go 
in this letter to you. 

February 4. 
Peggy dear : 

You can't imagine under what strange 
circumstances we have been living the last 
few days. My impressions of France cer- 
tainly are different from what I expected them 
to be. You see travelling the way we do we 
have the worst side of the country displayed 
to us, and I imagine we reciprocate equally. 
I spent a few wonderful moments, however, 
when we stopped at a certain town, in an 
old cathedral. They were having service 
there and the choir was chanting. We wan- 



OF THE TEENCHES 29 

dered around and were in a new world for a 
few minutes. Every one is in mourning 
here, and every man is in uniform. The 
French country is beautiful from a train 
window, but after travelling a day or two in 
the same little compartment and eating 
tinned stufT in the same place, it loses its 
power to interest us and we realize how dirty 
we are. Just as in a novel one chapter after 
another gradually brings you nearer the final 
plot of the story, what the final outcome will 
be is yet to be solved. Believe me I realize 
what some of the things are that I am run- 
ning up against, and it is such an easy matter 
to calm your conscience over here. I begin 
to see where a man has to really do some 
mental fighting, but I shall try to be a help, 
for I have people like mother who expects 
great things of me. Here I am using you 
already, but you have been a tremendous 
help in more ways than you can realize. 
Our real work will begin now in a very short 
time, I imagine. I don't know what it will 
be but I am eager to get into it. 

Always your fond brother, 

Pink. 



30 MY GALAHAD 

February i8. 
Dear Louise : 

There are so many things I would 
like to write you, but I can't because I censor 
my letters. To me one of the saddest sights 
that I have seen was yesterday when with 
bugles blowing the 1919 class of the town we 
were in marched down the street locked arm 
in arm, with streamers of red, white and blue 
pinned to them, and the words, ** Bons pour 
la service," showing that they were good for 
service. There were so many who seemed 
so young, and yet that is the fortune of war. 
Your socks have been perfectly wonderful, 
for wool socks are the only thing a fellow 
can wear here. When I gave them to my 
French laundress I told her you made them 
for me, and that she must be very careful of 
them. She beamed all over and said, ** Oui, 
oui, je comprends." She has a little daugh- 
ter called Pollette and I take her candy. 
She is the cunningest litde thing. Her father 
was on leave the last time I was there, and 
he is a typical soldier. The poor man had 
to come to attention and salute when I en- 
tered his own house, yet we don't look much 



OF THE TEENCHES 31 

like officers, spattered with mud most of the 
time and in old uniforms, but we are not on 
any pink teas over here and we realize it. I 
hope I can get to the front shortly. We are 
always hoping. I wish I could spend the 
afternoon at the Colonial with you, having 
tea and dancing, or tea beside the hearth. I 
Hke to look back to that and the nights when 
I went home with you. 

Always your brother, 

Vinton. 
P. S. We have a song which runs as 
follows : 

'* I want to go home 
No longer to roam. 
The bullets they whistle, 
The cannons they roar. 
I don't want to go to the trenches no more, 
I want to go over the sea 
Where the Allemands can't get at me. 
Oh, my ! I am too young to die, 
I want to go home." 

Don't take it to heart. The fellows don't 
want to go back now if they could until the 
thing is over, and then won't we enjoy the 
comforts of home! Until then I can only 
say as the Frenchmen do, '* Bon courage." 



32 MY GALAHAD 

February 20. 
Dearest darling Mother : 

You are taking the best care of your- 
self, mother dear, aren't you? For it is to 
you I am coming back and it is to hear your 
words of love that I am looking forward, 
and waiting for that day, and it is for that 
that I shall do my best work here and make 
myself of use. So don't you see you must 
keep up your end and keep perfectly well, 
and don't let other people's sadnesses sadden 
you too much. You have such a wonderful 
heart I know you can't help it. My French 
isn't improving much, for which I am very 
sorry. I haven't any time to study it, and 
little time to practice. Outside of the stores 
I hardly have a chance to talk to any one. 
The country all around here is wonderful, but 
we are losing our sense of the artistic. Lots 
of little villages are scattered around like 
bunches of pebbles, much more so than in 
England. Do you remember that beautiful 
ride from London to Edinburgh? What 
wonderful travels we have had together, and 
yet when we get down to it along what 
different lines our minds are running. That 



OP THE TEENCHES 33 

is the psychological point of view. That is 
why I don't care for psychology when it 
makes plain realities give the lie to our 
dreams. Heaps of love for yourself and 
grandmother. 

Lovingly, 

Vinton. 



February 22. 
Sister Peggy dear: 

You can't guess what I have just been 
doing — rereading for the sixteenth time those 
three letters I received from you in New 
York, and, Peggy, I can't thank you enough 
for them. I am so glad that you are near 
my wonderful mother, for sometimes when I 
think how much father meant to her and 
how lonely she must be without him, I 
should worry a lot but for you, and, Peggy, 
you are just so wonderful I know you will be 
a tremendous blessing to her. We men 
here get to living from one day to another. 
We don't try to solve the future or worry 
about what we are to do, but I know that 
way down deep is that thought of the mo- 
ment when the returning soldier comes 



34 MY GALAHAD 

home. Some of them, I am afraid, will be 
disappointed, and some, when they return, 
will not find conditions as they expect, but 
to me the greatest thing I can think of is to 
get back to mother, and to see you again, 
and in the meantime your little compass, 
symbolic of so much I have since come to 
understand, will guide me, and I shall be 
careful not to let any lode-stone attract the 
needle out of the true course. I think you 
will understand the symbols I am talking in, 
and perhaps you did when you gave me the 
compass. A bunch of homesick, hungry 
fellows gather about the mantel each day 
and jam each other in an endeavor to look 
over the mail. Some one yells, " Only the 
same old papers," but every one feels there 
might have been one in that bunch acciden- 
tally overlooked, for him, so the jam re- 
mains until the bell rings for dinner, and we 
pile into the mess hall, and forget the long- 
ing for a letter in comparing notes on the 
morning's work or perform the soldier's 
eternal trick in kicking about something or 
somebody. I am just as pleased as I can be 
with Tennyson. I read it week-ends, for at 



OF THE TEENCHES 35 

night all my work is done by candle. This 
isn't a newsy letter but there is so little I can 
write about. France is France, and that is 
about all I can say of it. 

With love from your brother, 

Pink. 

March 2. 

Dearest Mother: 

To-day is Sunday and I imagine you 
are going down to church with grandmother. 
How I would like to be with you ! I suppose 
it will be about Easter time when you re- 
ceive this, so my Easter greetings go with 
this. Isn't it true what a large part in our 
lives anticipation plays ? Here we are with 
no idea of what is coming next, yet we are 
all looking forward to it just because of its 
vagueness, and there isn't a man here who 
doesn't anticipate returning home. When I 
see some of the fellows here who have given 
up pretty fine business occupations, what I 
did was easy in comparison, for mine came 
right at a time when it meant very little sac- 
rifice to me, nothing lost except time, which, 
however, is a wonderfully valuable thing, but 



36 MY GALAHAD 

what is time so long as you are living and 
doing what you feel is in a right cause ! 
Give my love to grandmother and the rest of 
the family, and give Tippy an extra dose of 
" kitty salmon." You know father is a 
tremendous inspiration to me here. I keep 
thinking what he would think, and it helps 
me a lot. I begin to see values more than 
ever, so I am trying by deeds to be an ex- 
ample, not words, for words are so easy that 
the fellow who talks good here is not the 
fellow who is particularly popular or influen- 
tial. You are my wonderful mother, and 
those little snap-shots I have of you all show 
you as my cheery, smiling, darling mother. 
I know you will continue to smile and cheer 
the world up, no matter what happens, for 
just the picture of your smiling face has 
cheered more than one of my friends around 

here. 

Ever so lovingly, 

Vinton. 

March 5. 
Dear Sister Peggy : 

It is very seldom that I get at all lone- 
some over here and then it is because I have 



OF THE TEENCHES 37 

not done as well as I might, but my heart is 
in the States. Occasionally I think how 
much Hal is doing, and others I know, in a 
constructive way, and here I am trying my 
best to be destructive, and invent every pos- 
sible method of destroying, not only works 
of human hands but the human hands them- 
selves. Well, you know enough of my na- 
ture to know what I think. I just have to 
pass that over, and think of the cause and 
necessity, the fact that we are protecting the 
people in the States from an attack by the 
Boche. Your little compass has done won- 
ders this week, and though it has not saved 
lives yet it has saved reputations, and the 
time will come when it may be called upon 
to save life. Don't let mother talk too much 
about me. If I were one hundred thou- 
sandth part as good as she would like to 
make me out, I would be superhuman. 
There are lots of other men here in France 
besides myself, so it is not a lonely job, and 
it isn't one we suffer from, unless you get 
wounded, and then the possibility is that you 
get a slight scratch or you never know what 
hit you. I don't wonder a man uses his 



38 MY GALAHAD 

Bible over here, and yet as I heard a woman 
in the States say, a religion to which men 
run by being frightened to death isn't the 
religion you want, you want the real thing. 
We get the real thing here as regards un- 
covering what men are made of. We all 
have our petty failures, but whether we have 
the stuff that stands under real strain proves 
in the end. May your brother have this 
when the time comes. 

March 6. 
Dearest of Wonderful Mothers : 

Seven letters reached me to-day, and 
absolutely I am the happiest boy in France. 
I never knew what two months without mail 
meant until I got these. I feel as I did after 
you and Peggy made that wonderful visit to 
Fort Niagara, almost uncontrollable, and I 
look around and pity the rest of the fellows. 
They have received mail, but not such letters 
as you can write. Two from you, two from 
Peggy, two from Hal and one from Aunt 
Annie ! I am absolutely a multi-millionaire 
to-night, happier than any of them, and now 
if I can stop long enough from my raving. 



OF THE TEENCHES 39 

I'll begin to answer your letters. I think 
having a piano is a corking thing. I wish I 
were there to hear you play some of the 
things I used to love when I was little, and 
had no thought of the army. As for your- 
self, you are the bravest of the brave. I 
know in a little way how much you suffer in 
the loss of dear father. When I w^as at 
Colgate before the week at Clifton Springs 
and had an inkling of the possible, I remem- 
ber going over the question, " What would 
you do without father ? " It didn't seem pos- 
sible, and yet things have to happen. I 
thoroughly believe that God has a way of 
working things out for the best, and though 
lots of us have to suffer in our own individual 
way, it is all for the best. Your son is just 
as proud of you as he can be, and all of my 
friends and yours tell of that wonderful smile 
of yours " lighting up the dark and crowded 
subway" as Aunt Annie puts it. Work is 
awfully interesting and of the type that makes 
you sleep pretty soundly at night. 
Always lovingly, 

Vinton. 



40 MY GALAHAD 

March lo. 
Dear Louise : 

I am not exactly homesick, but I do 
wish I were back in the States this Sunday 
morning. It reminds me of that Sunday 
when you and mother and grandmother and 
I went down to church together. I haven't 
been to church since I left the States, there 
being none to go to, and there also not being 
an over-sufficiency of time. I had a letter 
from mother the other day and she wrote 
how beautifully you played the piano. I 
have heard one piano since I left the ship. 
The other night we happened to run across 
a fellow playing, and a little chap, who 
played girls' parts in college-shows, danced 
with me a little. It seemed funny even to 
dance with a fellow. We are waiting orders 
now, and we have learned to do it calmly 
without any excitement as to what, where or 
when. I often read my Browning, and I do 
enjoy it so much. Do you remember com- 
ing back from Peter Ibbetson ? You were so 
funny, and you certainly had your way every 
time, didn't you ? I wish you could feed me 
a chocolate now. I mustn't make matters 



OF THE TEENCHES 41 

worse for me here than they are by thinking 

of those wonderful days. And now with 

love for my dear little sister, this letter goes. 

Always your brother, 

Vinton. 

Company G, 28th Infantry, 

March 11. 
Dearest of Mothers : 

From the above you will see that my 
schooling days are over, and that I am as- 
signed to troops and real troops at that, men 
who have been here in training for months. 
My heart goes out to you and I long to hold 
you in my arms, for I love you so much. 
We are feeling fine, and as for food, the 
nearer we get to the front the better it is. 
There is almost a continuous hum of aero- 
planes over our heads, and we are coming in 
contact with Missouri mules here. We carry 
gas masks slung across our shoulders, and as 
for appearance you would never pick me out 
for an officer. My thermos flask has been of 
great benefit, also my bedding roll. We are 
beginning to get real war now. The Amer- 
icans show up wonderfully, — a bunch to be 



42 MY GALAHAD 

proud of. Believe me, I have been eating. I 
can stow away more ** slum and punk and 
Java" than I would have thought could be 
eaten by five men. Give my love to grand- 
mother. I must close and try to send this off. 
Heaps of love, 

Vinton. 

March ii. 
Dear Peggy : 

One of the fellows was pretty blue, 
and so he talked it all out to me to-night. 
You know I think it helps if you can tell 
some one who at least appears to be inter- 
ested. If I can be a little help in this way I 
feel it is accomplishing something. It is 
pretty hard for some of these boys over here. 
You would laugh if you could see me wear- 
ing a silver bracelet around, and yet that is 
my identification tag. I have my name, 
rank and organization engraved upon it ; so 
with bracelet, wrist-watch, and Beta ring, I 
would be a sight for sore eyes in pre-war 
days. One thing I can truthfully say, and 
that is I have no regret for any of the steps 
I have taken since I started in at this war 



OF THE TEENCHES 43 

game, except that I might have studied a 
little harder. Sometimes I find myself grow- 
ing careless, however. I say to myself, " Oh, 
well, you are up with the highest in the 
group. You are doing pretty well, old top," 
and then I realize that with my college edu- 
cation I ought to be there anyhow, and ought 
to be higher. Litde sister, it means a lot to 
me to know that some one occasionally 
thinks about me out here, for I feel sure that 
you do. Of course it means more than I 
could ever write on paper, especially when it 
is some one I feel I have such a wonderful 
relation with as with you. I must hurry off 
to my trundle now as next week holds plenty 
of stiff work. So good-night, dear sister 

Peggy. 

Pink. 

March 28. 

Dearest and most Wonderful 
OF Mothers : 

I love to think of you with your in- 
spiring smile doing so much good and help- 
ing so many people. But I know you are, 
way down deep, waiting for the day when I 
will come home, and that is what I care most 



44 MY GALAHAD 

about. But in the meantime there are such 
tremendous things to be done that our little 
personalities sink into nothingness. Things 
are so great here there is no place for small 
things, and yet the small things each have 
to be accomplished, for that is the way great 
things result. The weather is bright and 
sunshiny in the daytime, and at night my 
sleeping bag is the biggest comfort ever. 
Just heaps and heaps of love go in this let- 
ter, and remember we are all cheerful over 
here and we send home just as much as we 
can. This letter is brimful of it. Especially 
next Sunday, Easter Sunday, I shall be 
thinking of you and eating imaginary hot- 
cross buns with you. 

With heaps and heaps of love, 

Vinton. 



April 4. 
Dearest Sister Peggy : 

I am just now at the turning point 

where I will either make good or fail, and I 

am relying on you and the others to back 

me up mentally. Letters may not be regular 

now, but don't let mother worry. I know 



OF THE TEENCHES 45 

you are doing everything in your power to 
cheer her up, and I thank you from the 
bottom of my heart and love you the more 
for it. I am hoping to give her reason for 
being prouder than ever for one of those 
stars in the window. Oh, Peggy, what 
would I give to sit on that divan in front of 
the fire, and see you sit there with your feet 
tucked up under you and talk with you 1 
Now I begin to appreciate all the things that 
were said to me at home, for in this war it is 
each one for himself if you are an officer, and 
unless you think of telling another man he is 
getting on finely, there are no compliments 

exchanged. 

Lovingly, 

Pink. 

April 7. 
Darling Little Mother : 

You promised me not to worry and 

I know you won't, you brave, wonderful 

mother, but I am wondering whether you 

tried to read between the lines of my recent 

letters for something that wasn't there which 

would give you cause for worry. I keep 

wondering what father would think of it 



46 MY 

all. I know he wouldn't want me anywhere 
else than just where I am. When the time 
comes when I see you again I think I will 
burst from happiness. I follow after Tele- 
machus rather than Ulysses, I guess. You 
have been in my thoughts a great deal to- 
day and I have been thinking of you as 
being my proud little mother, proud that 
you have a son who is trying to do his bit, 
and yet I know you have times when it 
seems pretty hard. I haven't read it in your 
letters but intuition tells me, so I want you 
to know things are going finely. I wouldn't 
change places with any one in the States 
now, not until the war is over or I have ac- 
complished something worth while. It is 
just three months ago to-day that I sailed 
from New York and eleven months since I 
first put on uniform. I feel almost as if I had 
been in it all my life long. Last night one 
of the older *' shave-tails " read aloud to me 
part of his letter from home, and it was the 
kind of a letter that you might write, so I 
just imagined it was from you. That mother 
was proud of her son, too, but that is not 
what we are here for, and my thoughts are 



OF THE TEENOHES 47 

that I may be able to deliver the goods 
when the day comes. 

April 19. 
Things are going finely now, and at pres- 
ent we are billeted in an old French chateau 
occupied at one time by some Count. In 
fact the aged Countess is living here still. 
Beautiful grounds surround the place ; there 
are great rooms where you can imagine 
impressive ceremonies were carried out ; 
inlaid floors, — especially in the ballroom 
where many stately dances were held; 
pictures still hanging from the walls, and 
gorgeous paintings looking down upon you 
with surprise,— surprise at seeing Americans 
encroaching upon the halls and rooms which 
they once occupied in true French fashion. 
One can imagine wild revelries held in this 
place, for that seems typical of the France I 
have seen as a soldier. 

May 3. 
Four months ago to-day I said good- 
bye to the people I loved best in the world 
and a great four months it has been, too. 
Just two days ago I received a batch of de- 



48 MY GALAHAD 

layed mail and among others were six letters 
from you, from February 15 to March 25. 
Oh, Peggy, you don't know how much let- 
ters mean over here, how much courage is 
brought in them, not physical courage but 
mental. Here, unless you receive letters as 
I have been receiving them, it is so easy for 
your mind to ooze out on a lower level, but 
the very fact that you at home expect such 
high things make me strive harder. If a 
man has a conscience that tells him to do a 
thing and he loiters, it is a great deal worse 
than being killed. When they told me that 
I had some mail, I was so eager for it that I 
forgot my gas-mask which we carry with us 
all the time. 

I think the United States army might well 
be called the sanitary corps, for they always 
clean up every place they stop in, and 
these French towns are pretty filthy. You 
wouldn't notice it in touring France in a car, 
but when you billet men in stables you find 
the value of such sanitary work. Peggy, 
there isn't any one anywhere as fortunate as 
I am in having at home such wonderful peo- 
ple who, I know, are back of me. Don't 



OP THE TEENCHES 49 

think I ever regret being here for I am proud 
to be in the van of the American Forces in 
France, and I think there is the highest 
morale in our battalion of any in France. 
The uniforms one sees here are not the neat 
and tailor-made uniforms one sees on Wash- 
ington Street or Fifth Avenue. 

The plan for to-morrow— Mothers' Day — 
is a great thing. I think the whole com- 
pany will take advantage of it and that will 
keep us pretty busy in our spare moments 
censoring the letters. Wouldn't I like to 
run in to Mather Court, and surprise you all, 
but I fancy we will stay here until quite a 
while after the end of the war. Do you 
know I think it will be hard for me to settle 
down to an indoor job after I get through 
this, but that is too far in the distance to 
worry about as yet. The way they have to 
run the platoon now makes the Platoon Com- 
mander much more responsible for the ap- 
pearance of the platoon than before, for the 
Company Commander has so much more to 
look after, he cannot be in intimate touch as 
formerly. So the main thing is to keep the 
men happy, keep them working in team 



50 MY GALAHAD 

work, look after their food and clothing, see 
that they bathe, and just now I am seeing 
that they all write home. In fact just this 
minute I received five Mothers' Day letters 
to be censored. The hardest thing of all is 
to punish the men. Think of me, just out of 
college . . . well, it is unthinkable even 
to me. So I won't try to inflict it on you, for 
the picture would make you laugh. 

Always your brother, 

Pink. 

May 8. 
Dear Betty : 

Four of your letters have come in 
within a week, and I surely was glad to hear 
from you. You ask me how I react to these 
experiences. Why, I don't seem to react; 
they just come in the natural course of 
events, and I swing along feeling that I am 
doing exactly what I should. Sometimes 
when I am marching along at the head of a 
body of men, — laden down with steel Stetson, 
gas-masks, pack, field-glasses, pistol and 
overcoat, balancing myself with a cane, — 
sometimes in the cold starlight it all seems 



OF THE TEENCHES 61 

to slip off, and like Hermes of old I go on 
winged feet, feeling all the glories of the ages 
back of me bearing me up. For the most 
part, however, the path of duty necessitates 
a strict observance of its contours, for you 
are likely to step in a shell-hole if you go 
star-gazing too much. 

A lot of things have happened this last 
year which change the history of the whole 
world, and narrowed down to us small mor- 
tals, change our lives considerably too. It is 
going to be hard for the men who have been 
in France and who will return, to settle down 
to an ordinary kind of life. We over here 
are not the heroes in spite of the hardships 
we occasionally endure, — though we get the 
credit, — the real heroes are those like my 
mother, who stay at home and continue with 
their normal lives, but with the thought of 
the unknown ever present. Things are — 
well, I guess I have rambled long enough. 

Vinton. 

May 12. 

Mother dear : 

Some nights when I look up at the 



52 MY GALAHAD 

stars, my mind goes back with startling 
vividness to those days at Cambridge. 
Wasn't that a wonderful month and what a 
wonderful time we had together I At such 
times too I seem to get a new vision, for it 
isn't often we can throw off our immediate 
surroundings. I am getting to believe one 
changes by mere associations. I used to 
believe that man's character was predestined 
and unalterable. I now see how surround- 
ings can mould a man, and I thank God, not 
as the Jew that I am better than other men, 
but that I was born of such wonderful par- 
ents, and kept and brought up in such a 
wonderful way, and have the love of such a 
noble mother to sustain me. And now the 
responsibility remains with me of what 
my life shall consist. I am happy again 
in that I have been given a platoon. It 
is so much more satisfactory than acting 
second in command. Mother dear, you are 
a tremendous help here in France. The 
small good I can do is all you over here. 
Don't laugh too much when I tell you I 
haven't slept with my clothes off for two 
months. Most nights though I have been 



OF THE TEEKCHES 53 

able to take off my shoes. Mother, your 
letters are perfectly great. They are all so 
cheery, and I know there are times when 
you don't feel that way. The soldier de- 
velops a great spirit over here. He says 
there is a shell over in Germany with his 
name on it, and when that comes there is 
no use dodging it, for it will find him out in 
the deepest dugout, but until it comes, what 
is the use of worrying about the rest of them. 
1 read to-day about one of my closest friends, 
Lloyd Ludwig, who was killed by a fall from 
an aeroplane in Oxford, England. This is 
Mothers' Day, so you are more in my 
thoughts than ever, if that is possible. My 
love to grandmother, with just oceans of 

love for yourself. 

Vinton. 

May 15. 
Wonderful little Sister of 
MINE, Louise: 

After reading over your letter for the 
'steenth time, I must write you again. You 
write such wonderful letters to me. I simply 
can't thank you enough for them. If I were 



54 MY GALAHAD 

one thousandth part as good as the things 
you say about me, I would be magnificent, 
and you are spoiling me, but I love to be 
spoiled by you. The weather here is fine. 
I like weather in all shapes and conditions. 
Even pitch black nights in the rain have 
their fascination, for then the flash of guns 
gives a bizarre effect which you would pay 
three dollars to see in an opera. As far as 
health goes, I never felt better or in better 
spirits in my life, but what wouldn't I give 
to go to a dance ! I will be either so keen 
for it when I get back that I will never get 
enough, or I will be hardened to the lack of 
it. I must stop a minute to censor about 
twenty letters. My present command is by 
far the most interesting work of the whole 
year, because this is what I have been train- 
ing myself for all along. 

Your brother, 

Vinton. 



May 21. 

Mother dear : 

I have not been in a position yet 
where I could write more than the meagrest 



OF THE TEENCHES 55 

details. It is almost a month since I have 
seen a civilian save those who came here one 
day. This life does give you a love of 
nature, a love of that which is just beyond 
the human grasp. You go out into the 
moonlight and feel the place " holy and 
enchanted," a new world, half mystical, a 
different moon, more wondrous lights ; — then 
some tremendous 155 goes off and shatters 
your dream. The sun pours down its light 
and heat, and you lie under a tree with half- 
closed eyes, and your thoughts are far away, 
miles and miles, — when suddenly plunk, 
plunk, around you, and you decide the safest 
thing is to put on your gas-mask. Life is 
great and the aims of the war are great. It 
is when you see into the aims with your inner 
eyes that you see the bigness of it all. Just 
like religion, those moments are few and far 
between, yet it is like the Mount of Trans- 
figuration when you go up and receive your 
inspiration anew. I wish I were more 
worthy of what you think me to be. You 
give me credit for being so many thou- 
sand times better than I am. I wish I were 
deserving of it. Give my best love to 



56 MY GALAHAD 

grandmother, and heaps and heaps for your- 
self. 

Lovingly, 

Vinton. 



May 22. 
I have moved back to a place where we 
can go around in safety in the daytime and 
I hardly know what to do with such liberty, 
let alone seeing chickens and cows and 
civilians, which I haven't feasted my eyes on 
for a month now. Yes, this morning, until 
it became too hot, I literally paced the streets 
in eager anticipation of seeing the inhab- 
itants. I have thus far seen nine in all : 
eight old women just managing to keep 
from dropping to pieces by staying dressed 
all the time, — at least that is the impression I 
received, — and one old man with a scythe. 
Oh, it is so good to be aUve and know that 
you are in it! You laugh at my box-car 
with its ** 40 hommes, 8 cheveaux," but they 
are great places to live in. We managed to 
keep the number in our car within thirty. 
With straw in the bottom, we had com- 
fortable quarters, and at night with our feet 



OP THE TEENCHES 67 

pointed towards the centre we slept well. 
The noise of the rattling door sent us to 
sleep. In one corner we had our boxes of 
hard bread and " corn-willie/' and one pail 
did us for drinking, shaving, washing, etc. 
But, mother dear, in spite of all these new 
and awfully interesting experiences, I always 
go back to that month with you in Boston 
as the happiest of all times. That shows 
how shallow-minded I am when I could for- 
get everything and just live in the present. 
Yes, I am in a joyful mood. It is so quiet 
here, it seems strangely unnatural. Mother 
dear, I am absolutely content with my work, 
so don't worry about my finding hardships. 
We have them, but I would rather have 
them and share them, than see other men 
have them alone. You get a broader view- 
point. I must send this off with heaps and 
heaps of love. 

May 25. 

Peggy dear : 

I can never tell you how much this 
friendship of ours has meant, particularly 
over here. You have been a beautiful sister 



58 MY GALAHAD 

to me, and just to know that you were think- 
ing of me has helped me to do better than 
otherwise I could have done, and, Peggy, 
don't think of me having hardships more 
than I can endure. The soldier just lives 
his life as any other person, with a touch of 
unreality ; but in other lives there is that un- 
naturalness too, as when a bunch of men are 
herded together for four years in college. 
Just now where I am it seems strangely 
quiet, not a sound of exploding shells or the 
roar of artillery, and for the first time in 
months I see cows and chickens and human 
beings in civilian clothes. I sometimes 
wonder what heaven can possibly be like, 
for our conceptions of it keep changing so 
constantly, and no two people will be satisfied 
with the same kind of heaven, and there will 
always be some one jealous of some one 
else's heaven if we each have our own. But 
we don't have much time to think of heaven 
now. I have been in many cities or rather 
towns, where the moonlight falls through 
roofless walls and gardens, and streets are 
ripped up with shells, and I am here in 
France to save our own homes and parks 



OP THE TEBNCHiS 59 

from being ruined as they are ruined over 

here. 

Always affectionately, 

Pink. 



May 31. 
Dearest of darling Mothers : 

It is a tired boy that writes to you to- 
night after some of the most strenuous hours 
of my life. I expect soon to be in a place 
where I can write details of my work and let 
you know more what I am doing. You have 
been in my thoughts a very great deal, and I 
love to picture your cheerful, smiling face as 
over me, and watching me, and smiling the 
encouragement I feel you are sending across 
to me. I received a couple of your letters 
to-day, and they do cheer me so much. Also 
two from Hal telling of his work and play. 
Letters are such a tremendous help here. 
They mean a great deal. There are getting 
to be beaucoup Americans over here. We 
had a bunch of new men assigned to our 
Company, and I organized them into a 
platoon, and '* carried on " with them almost 
like an independent company. I feel some 



60 MY GALAHAD 

of the men have a real affection for their 
leader. Not with pride do I say it, but it was 
mutual. They were a fine bunch and did 
fine work. I love you, love you, and my 
love has grown immensely since I have been 
here. Boyhood days are of the past and I 
feel years older. Won't we have a glorious 
time together when I get back ? I have seen 
some of the sights Coningsby Dawson writes 
about, and when they are your own friends 
it brings you to a realization of what war is. 
Excuse this sad strain in my letter, mother 
dear, and believe me always 

Your loving son, 

Vinton. 

This letter was written just after the " over- 
the-top" drive at Cantigny, for which Vin- 
ton received a citation by Major-General 
Bullard and was awarded the Distinguished 
Service Cross by General Pershing. 

June I. 
Louise dear : 

The chewing gum you sent me is a 

great thing, and has saved me a whole lot of 

worry. I shall tell you some time one of the 



OF THE TEENCHES 61 

places where I chewed it. Also when you 
have a canteen with only a few drops of 
water left, and a whole day to go, your 
throat gets dry and sticky, and the gum keeps 
things running, and when you are listening 
to " crumps " falling all around, and each one 
seems to have just missed the trench you are 
in, and your heart is in your ears listening to 
the whistle of the next one, then chewing 
gum helps. I am getting to look old and 
haggard. That is the trouble with us chaps 
over here. When we get back we won't be 
good for anything, while the fortunate men 
at home will have . . . Does this sound 
funny ? It is only a passing thought in my 
head, so forgive it. We are all glad we are 
here, and will stick until the last gun is fired 
if that is the command. 

Love to my little sister, 

Vinton. 

June 3. 
Dearest and most Wonderful 
OF Mothers : 

Do you realize that five whole months 
ago to-day I left you in the South Station at 



62 MY GALAHAD 

Boston, and what a long, long time ago it 
was, and, mother, if only I could tell you how 
my love for you has grown in that time I 
All 1 do is with you in mind, you, with your 
cheerful, wonderful smile, and how that 
heartens me over here, that for me you are 
smiling many, many times when in reality 
the smile is not there. I hope one of these 
days to have some good news to tell you. 
Nothing much, but everything cheerful helps 
the smile and the war too. Oh, mother, 
what a lot has happened the last five months ! 
Isn't it a revelation how America has awak- 
ened 1 She surely is doing wonderful work 
here. And now I am looking forward to the 
time when I shall see you. Won^t we have 
a wonderful time when we do ? Please use 
any of my money you need. It is all yours. 
Everything of mine is yours, mother dear, 
for you have made me and helped me get 
where I am. Anything I can do worth while 
is from you. You asked me in your last let- 
ter if I have seen any Boches. Yes I have, 
both as hated enemies in the opposing line, 
and then as men in fear crying, " Kamerad," 
with hands extended, and then in that bond 



OF THE TEBKCHES 63 

which cannot help but bind us all when one 
is wounded so badly that the human being is 
to the fore, yet I hate them not as human be- 
ings, for in spite of war I cannot hate human 
beings, — I hate the mechanism, the fiendish 
deviltry of it all that makes for this. I had a 
wonderful body of men who proved they 
would ** go through hell for me." I have an- 
other platoon now, and so it goes. You get 
one body of men, then you switch to another, 
but, mother dear, think of me as always 
cheerful over here. I will keep up my end, 
knowing that you are doing the same there. 
It is so wonderful to know that I have such a 
beautiful ideal mother back there. Love, 
love, love goes across the sea to you, con- 
stant love that is larger and purer and deeper 
than ever before, and remember your son is 
battling for you and all those who have 
meant so much to him. Just heaps and 
heaps of love to you and give my best love 

to grandmother. 

Vinton. 

June 3. 
Peggy dearest : 

I warn you this letter will start out 



64 MY GALAHAD 

badly, so here goes. Yes, I am blue and 
homesick and everything, and all that makes 
me wish I were back in the States. There 
are many things that make me feel that way, 
but I must just overcome them, and so say- 
ing, ** he overcame them." Well, Peggy 
dear, I do feel better and it is because of 
that eternal backing I know I am receiving 
from mother and you, and God knows I 
need it. If you stay here long, more and 
more you stand alone as the stake against 
which other weary and tired ones can rest. 
At first I did all the resting, and I now begin 
to appreciate those that I rested against. 
Oh, Peggy, what wonderful days college 
days are, and as our Beta song goes, 

'* Life is at best a struggle, 
It always comes too soon." 

But I must not forget the rest of the song, so 
I keep singing it to myself. Yes, Peggy, I 
am taking lessons from that wonderful little 
mother of mine, and smiling when there are 
no smiles here. Don't think I am dis- 
couraged, a bit cast down, perhaps, but 
cheero, I am at it again. I think it is be- 



OF THE TEENCHES 65 

cause I have lost one of my best friends that 
I have been feeling so badly, but duty calls 
and it is great to obey duty, " the stern 
daughter of the voice of God." My battalion 
officer has commended me, and there is much 
that some day I will tell you. You know 
here one changes his mind on the important 
things of life. I am at sea, Peggy. I 
scarcely know where I stand. When you 
see how little life is and how quickly one can 
lose it you begin to think of the greater 
things. The most a man can do is to do 
his duty to the utmost. You have been an 
awfully good litde listener, and the next letter 
will be more cheerful, I promise, and, Peggy, 
you have given me courage to keep driving. 
Ever so lovingly, 

Vinton. 



June 5. 
Dearest of Mothers : 

I don't seem to be able to keep from 

writing you. I want to write to you all the 

time. What wouldn't I give to sit down, hug 

you close and talk to you ! I have been 

thinking of father a great deal recently. It 



66 MY GALAHAD 

was two years ago we were all together in 
Hamilton. What lovely days those were! 
We were all so proud of you, and father was 
all in his glory at having one of his sons 
graduating from college. May I be worthy 
of his memory! There are moments when 
it is easy to do things that are detrimental if 
you are not careful, but thoughts of you 
and father have kept me true. Then too it 
is hard sometimes to endure the long 
dragging hours when you simply sit still, 
but, mother dear, I have proved myself in 
the hard places, and with a prayer on my 
lips I have come through none the less a 
man for it. How much your dear face has 
meant to me the last few days ! I have 
thought of you constantly, and always your 
face has been there to cheer me. Oh, I am 
looking forward to that wonderful time we 
will have together. I think I will allow my- 
self one month's rest for every six months I 
am here. I am hoping it won't be long now, 
but when it comes, it will be heaven. It is 
only a dream, but dreams come true. If you 
think my letters are not cheerful I want to 
correct that impression, for I want you to 



OF THE TEENCHES 67 

know your smile is reflected over here as 
the moon reflects the light of the sun. You 
can see how easy it is for a bunch of men to 
copy their leader. An indifferent leader has 
a following of indifferent men in his platoon. 
That is the way it goes. I surely have fine 
men in my platoon, and things are beginning 
to take on a new aspect. You see I have 
only had the men for a couple of days now 
and I think it will be a permanent assign- 
ment this time. A year ago you were writ- 
ing me those lovely camp letters. Now your 
letters go much farther, and also deeper. I 
think I have matured in several ways since 
father saw me a year and a half ago, and a 
little since you saw me, too. As they say, 
if you don't go forward you go backward, so 
I am doing my best to go forward. You 
know one of these days I am going to take a 
lot of pleasure in putting on that good uni- 
form of mine. It has been almost three 
months since I saw it. I keep my clothes 
clean, but they are plain soldier's clothes, but 
for the bars. But it isn't the uniform that 
makes the leader, it is what you have in you, 
and with God's help and my own teeth I will 



68 MY GALAHAD 

succeed. You know I find my own teeth 
clinched unconsciously at times. I am afraid 
I am getting to be an awful coffee drinker, 
almost a quart at a meal of the strongest. 
It is my one indulgence, no more than any 
one has, but because I want it, it looks to me 
like an indulgence. Think of me as doing 
my duty over here, and getting to be a man 
in doing it. How proud I shall be to walk 
down the street with you, and what wonder- 
ful times we shall have. What would I give 
for a word from that wonderful father of 
mine, and yet we must go on and do our 
best, without any words from those gone be- 
fore. Two of my best leaders over here 
have gone, and one just has to redouble his 
efforts to try in a little way to fill the gap. 
And now again, precious mother of mine, 
good-bye. 

Vinton. 



June 7. 
Precious Bit of Sunshine : 

Yes, mother dear, you are that to me, 

and to every one who knows you. As I 

gradually acquire responsibility and leader- 



OF THE TEENCHES 69 

ship and cease to be a blind follower, I find 
my path paved with all kinds of boulders 
around which it is necessary to drive, but 
believe me, mother dear, I will do my best, 
and should anything happen to me remem- 
ber I am glad to give all to repay my debt 
to my country. You can't possibly imagine 
how much you have meant to me the last 
few days, for I have used you as a land- 
mark on which to assemble my thoughts. 
That is rather an odd metaphor, but the 
state of one's mind is rather chaotic at times, 
and needs an assembling point. I wish I 
were in Cambridge so that I could go with 
you to father's grave. I hope you don't go 
alone. And one of these days when I do 
get back, you are there, and next to doing 
my share in winning the war is getting back 
to you. Just now I am writing under diffi- 
culties, but my heart is just as bright, and I 
love you more than ever. I am in a little 
dugout eighteen inches high and about two 
feet wide, with a little candle at my head. 
That is w^here I sleep daytimes. But you 
know if one only sees the broader vision, and 
the fight for democracy, small inconveniences 



70 MY GALAHAD 

vanish away. When I get back let us read 
quite a little aloud. There is so much I want 
to read now. I used to feel the truth of that 
statement that if you keep working up your 
sentiments and emotions and then don't 
accomplish anything, it is worse than useless, 
but I feel now that when I get through I 
shall be entitled to indulge myself more. I 
love to talk about you to my fellow officers, 
mother dear. You are a help to them too, 
and I keep my men working together and 
cheerful through you. And now I must 
close with heaps and oceans of love to the 
most wonderful person on earth. 

Lovingly, 

Vinton. 

Jime lo. 
Dearest of Mothers : 

This war has taught me the meaning 
of the " courage of the commonplace." It 
is not going over the top that takes courage. 
It is staying in one place with no movement 
possible for fifteen hours at a stretch that 
takes courage. I mean mental courage, for 
my mind is such that it has got to be doing 



OF THE TEENOHES 71 

something. I have lived over nearly every 
experience I have ever had. Please don't 
think I ani complaining, for I am not. 1 am 
trying to do my best and keep in the best 
condition, for Uncle Sam needs us all in our 
prime strength. Can you send in your let- 
ters little booklets, things I can slip in my 
pockets and carry, not too heavy ? You see 
my books of poems are in my trunk. I ex- 
pect one of these days I may see it again. I 
may be sent back to officers' school or some- 
thing of that sort. Your letter of May nth 
I have read and reread a countless number 
of times. You write such comforting, cheery 
letters. A year ago now I was going 
through what I thought were fearful and 
wonderful experiences, but then " Forsan et 
haec olim meminisse juvabit." That is a 
very comforting motto. I guess I can tell 
3^ou now what I did last March when I fin- 
ished officers' school. I went up to the Com- 
pany by train, truck and mule-cart, and was 
immediately put under a platoon leader, and 
the next day I went up to reconnoitre the 
front lines where the Company was to go in a 
very short time. You can imagine my feel- 



72 MY GALAHAD 

ings at getting into the thick of it so soon. 
Then came the period in the front lines when 
I slept but little, as we weren't supposed to 
sleep, and lived in mud up to my knees. I 
lost my rubber boots just before I started, so 
that is where three pairs of socks kept my 
feet in shape. We were fortunate in not 
coming in for much bombardment. I learned 
a good deal up there. It was just back 
of the lines that I sent my Easter telegram, 
and I sent it the evening of the night that we 
hiked all night, and all the next day, Easter 
Day. Then came a short rest at a canton- 
ment. From there on I wrote you about the 
ride in the car for the *' 40 hommes, 8 che- 
veaux.'* All this time I was in charge of a 
platoon, my chief having been taken sick. 
In fact he went deaf temporarily in the 
trenches, and it was funny, though danger- 
ous, for he couldn't hear a man challenge 
him. 

June 12. 

It is rather hard to keep track of the 

days, they just blend together so. It is the 

first time I ever thought there could be too 

much daylight. You see it is light from 



OF THE TRENCHES 73 

4 A. M. until lo P. M. I am living in a luxu- 
rious place now, three and a half feet high, 
and I have an entire three feet to roll over 
in, so I can sit up and write to the most 
wonderful little mother in the world. I have 
been with the Company just three months to- 
day, a whole training-camp period. Some of 
the things I originally thought were touches 
of war when I arrived in France would seem 
luxury now. It is luxury indeed to sleep 
with one's shoes off. I carry a blanket with 
me and that is indispensable, also canned al- 
cohol. I wish you could see me try to shave 
lying down. Anyway we are beating the 
Hun and at his own game. That is typical 
of the Americans. The bigger the surprise he 
springs, the harder the American comes back 
and in the same line. And of course my 
admiration for the French and British is un- 
bounded. And next to the war is you, and 
getting home again to you, mother dear. 
What a glorious day it will be ! I love to 
think of myself as in the star in your window. 
I get a feeling of security just to think of it. 
I am beginning to appreciate more than ever 
the glories of nature, the early morning 



74 MY GALAHAD 

mists, and the clear, sunlit fields and trees. 
Isn't the world a wonderful place to live in ? 
Your loving son, 

Vinton. 

June 14. 
Peggy dear : 

You can't imagine how welcome your 

letters were, May 14th and 20th, when they 

reached me, and they simply uplifted me as 

I read them sitting in the trench with Aurora 

just hitching up her fiery team to start off 

another day. I wasn't going to do any 

writing save to mother, but I had to squeeze 

in this letter to you. Sometimes time seems 

to fly by, and at others it goes by at such 

speed that a snail would look like a flash of 

lightning. But that is neither here nor there. 

The fact is I have been five months away 

from the States, and believe me it seems like 

a long period of time. How quickly we can 

descend from our own high civilization to 

the instincts of the animal, and the hunted 

animal at that. Some of the things I do now 

and get along without, I would have thought 

absolutely impossible a year ago, yes, less 



OF THE TEENCHES 75 

than a year ago. For at that first training- 
camp the feeding seemed wild, but that was 
luxury to what we have sometimes now, but 
it all counts in this big experience, and it isn't 
the outward hardships that bother you at all. 
It all reflects back to your inner soul. If 
you are selfish and think about yourself, so 
much the worse for you. You have to suffer, 
and your nerves in turn are acted upon. I 
found myself that way, and I started telling 
a story, that of " Les Miserables," as nearly 
as I could remember it, and it helped my 
mind wonderfully. Yesterday I managed to 
get sent for the afternoon to another Com- 
pany where they weren't under the restric- 
tions of our present surroundings, and I had 
the luxury of a glorious meal eaten off plates 
and at a table, and talk about good things to 
eat I I just stuffed myself. I am awfully 
glad I have a platoon now, and the men, I 
feel sure, have confidence in me and will 
follow where I lead. That is the big thing, 
that when I get orders to go anywhere I can 
feel assured the men are back of me. You 
would laugh to hear some of the fatherly 
advice I hand out to men four and six years 



76 MY GALAHAD 

my senior. Well, c'est la guerre. Here's 
hoping the day won't be so very far off when 
I shall see you again. 

Always affectionately, 

Brother Pink. 

June 15. 
Mother dearest : 

Your two wonderful letters of May 14th 

and 1 8th reached me yesterday, and in the 

glory of an early sunrise in France, with the 

chill of the night air still unconquered by the 

sun's rays, I read them seated in the entrance 

to my little home, which, under the reflection 

of your letters, transformed itself into a 

palace. You are so wonderful, mother, and 

write such letters 1 Your Mothers' Day letter 

did so much to cheer me and help me, and 

I hope you received mine. There are so 

many brave lads over here who stick and 

fight, no matter what the odds, not so much 

physical as mental, for that is where the 

unseen opponents can work so much harm. 

I haven't asked for packages, as so fev/ 

actually get here. Of the eighteen I know 

that were sent me, I have received four, so 



OF THE TEENCHES 77 

you can see it is better for me to get along 
without. The date on this letter is five 
months from the day my boat dropped 
down the river, five long months, yet crowded 
full of experiences I shall never regret. You 
may have noticed the death of Major Ras- 
mussen, killed in action. He was the finest 
type of a leader, a pure war-soldier through 
and through. Twenty years of war-soldier- 
ing with every nation you can imagine gave 
him the principles and bearing of a true 
soldier of fortune, and we who were under 
him were ready to follow wherever he led. 
He died like a true fighter, and almost his 
last words were, " It has been a great fight, 
boys. Give them hell for me," and we have 
been doing it too. I heard one man say, 
**And there's one for Major Rasmussen." 
Oh, it is wonderful to be living in this age, 
and when peace comes and the nations 
gather around the Board, won't it be in- 
teresting to see how they decide and feel 
you had a little part in that decision your- 
self! But, mother, my mind always returns 
to that day when the returning soldier 
comes home, and I shall see you again and 



78 MY GALAHAD 

hold you tight. It is now three months is 
the same uniform, and day and night, too. 
I have become literally attached to these 
clothes. My one pair of spiral leggings are 
worn threadbare, but as long as a man does 
his bit, clothes don't count. Love to grand- 
mother, heaps and heaps for you. 

Vinton. 

June 17. 
About a year ago I was looking forward 
to the time when I would see you again. 
Then I knew when it would be. Now I 
don't know, but I am looking forward 
just the same. I have the same platoon, 
and I am trying my best to be a worthy 
leader, but it is hard and one needs more 
than human strength to do it. Oh, your 
letter helped me so much saying that no 
matter how hard or lonely my work you 
were there with me. I know it, mother dear, 
and it helps tremendously. I have my hands 
full checking and looking after the workings 
of the platoon, and there are lots of things 
necessary here which under normal condi- 
tions are not required, and yet I feel I am 



OF THE TEENCHES 79 

filling my post not right. There is a yearn- 
ing to do better that I don't seem to attain 
to. I can't pick out just what my fault is, 
and that is a trouble. Well, mother dear, 
give my love to every one, and I will con- 
tinue to be your true son over here, true to 
the high ideals you expect of me. Wouldn't 
I love to take some trips with you, to 
Cooperstown or New York! Haven't we 
had some great times together ! 

Lovingly, 

Vinton. 



June 19. 
Mother dear : 

I have been thinking a lot of you and 

father this afternoon. Afternoon, I can hear 

you say, what is he doing that he is thinking 

in the afternoon instead of working. Well, 

for a couple of days my work has consisted 

of night work, and we sleep daytimes, and 

here in France the day is too long for that 

kind of thing. To get back to the point, 

more and more I realize what wonderful 

parents you have been, and now you. Oh, 

that I could do something to show how I 



80 MY GALAHAD 

appreciate it, but I can never begin to do 
what it deserves. About the platoon, I feel 
like glowing with pride, for they are a bunch 
of men who had a reputation in the Company 
for not caring, and now they go at all the 
different jobs with a will. They have 
" snapped out of it,'^ as the expression goes. 
Of course no two men are the same, and you 
just have to learn by experience how to get 
along with the different men. But I have 
two or three who would do absolutely any- 
thing for me, and really a king has no better 
feeling than to know he has men like this. 
They would all follow me anywhere, and one 
said to me, ** If the lieutenant goes on patrol 
I go too." That doesn't sound much on 
paper, but it meant a lot to me. My two 
sergeants, too, are absolutely reliable, and 
all I do is to tell them what I want done and 
it is done. Love to grandmother. Aunt 
Elizabeth, also Peggy and Louise, if they 
are still in Cambridge, and heaps of love for 
yourself. 

May (crossed out), June 21. 
Dear Betty : 

You see I even forget what month I 



OF THE TEEl^CHES 81 

am living in, and as for days, I found out 
Tuesday that I had Uved through a Sunday, 
and tried in vain to recall what I had been 
thinking about. It was one of those days 
that your double letter reached me, and most 
welcome it was, I assure you. Letters are 
read and reread. I build up fanciful air 
castles round them, — that is when I am in a 
place where all I can do in the daytime is to 
lie on my back, right and left side, and 
stomach, especially when the days are nine- 
teen hours long, and the rest bright moon- 
shine. Speaking of Cape Porpoise, you 
don't know what ethereal lights the name 
itself suggests, — a flashing combination of 
light : sunlight, the blue glistening bay, green 
hills, and that whale-rib arch in its white- 
ness. Then there comes back to me a com- 
bination of sound and smell and taste . . . 
taste brings back the thought of the clam- 
bake. I have just finished a piece of- corned 
** Bill " together with a hunk of French bread, 
and a cup of water. Besides that I had a piece 
of meat and some potatoes with the jackets on. 
So you see we are living in the lap of luxury. 
I wonder what you are doing now and 



82 MY GALAHAD 

what your plans are for next year. I should 
like to be making plans, but the only ones 
we make now are how we can best carry out 
the commands of those higher up. One 
thing we have been blest with, — that is beau- 
tiful and sunshiny weather, lasting for many 
days continuously. For nearly two months 
now we have had sun, and the roads are 
terribly dusty. It reminds me of Madison 
Barracks last summer, — only that there when 
we got dusty and dirty, we had a shower to 
come back to ; here every cupful of water is 
cherished like gold. I have often chewed 
gum to keep myself from having to drink 

water. And as for Well, I once laughed 

at them, but never again ! 

This is just one of the light sides of France 
that I have depicted. I could draw for you 
pictures I have seen that would make you 
shudder, but there is so much of that sort of 
thing that we learn to keep to ourselves. 1 
like to think of the happy times we have 
had together, — and I simply have got to 
finish that dance we began last year, the last 
night. . . . 

Vinton. 



OF THE TEENCHES 83 

Later : 

You say you admire the great writers and 
teachers as opposed to soldiers and states- 
men. For the sake of argument, doesn't it 
strike you that all the philosophies that the 
great writers and teachers have generated 
have been reduced to nothingness by the 
present war? International finance couldn't 
stop the war, nor international religions, nor 
anything that was expected to call a halt to 
it. But men relied, at least subconsciously, 
on education. And yet now, see how the 
writers have just swung into the fray. It is 
seldom you see a book that doesn't mention 
the war. The writings of Spinoza, Lieb- 
necht, and others, have just proved worth- 
less, in spite of the years of their lives de- 
voted to writing. I admit that there is going 
to be a big opening for education at the 
close of this war. Yet what is education 
worth if it produces war of this kind ? We 
are supposed to be at the height of civiliza- 
tion, and yet I would rather fight like the 
ancients with cross-bars and stone axes, than 
face the results of our modern education, — 
the high explosives which throw steel splin- 



84 MY GALAHAD 

ters for half a mile, and even though they 
don't touch you, can drive the life right out 
of a man, — the way one of my best friends 
was killed here a short time ago. 

I guess that writers do swing the world, 
though, if Nietzsche was an example. Well, 
some day we'll have a chance to argue it out 
together. 

Vinton. 

June 23. 
Mother dear : 

I guess to-day is Sunday, I am not 

sure, nor am I sure it is the 23rd ; it is a mere 

guess. Since I last wrote you I have changed 

locations again. I stayed behind the rest a 

day to show the surrounding country, and 

the Captain of the other Company had eggs 

and pie, and so I lived like a king. Also I 

had an opportunity to shave for the first 

time in five days, and that always makes 

you feel a lot better. I may be sent back to 

the States one of these months as instructor, 

but not for some time yet. I don't know 

why it is I feel so good, I mean in such fine 

spirits, unless it is because I had a chance to 

wash my face and hands to-day. Do you 



OF THE TEENCHES 85 

know even that has got to be a luxury. I 
am greatly encouraged by the war news, 
though I don't know what it will be, but the 
Americans can put it over the Boches every 
time. Your letters are such a comfort to 
me, mother dear. I always carry a couple 
around with me and wear them out, too. 
You don't know how cheap money gets over 
here. I spent fifty francs to-day buying 
chocolates for my platoon and didn't think 
anything of it, while in the States a quarter 
spent on candy would have seemed, at col- 
lege, extravagant to me. You can truly think 
of me as being cheerful all the time. Why 
otherwise ? I have thirty-eight men that if I 
duck when a shell comes, all thirty-eight duck, 
and if I smile, the smile goes down the line. I 
will soon have a substantial mirror in my pla- 
toon, and then I can judge for myself whether 
I am worth anything or not. I do try, though, 
and so I get the credit for it in spite of mis- 
takes, but I need all your prayers, for this is 
no easy job, and I appreciate the sensation of 
making your mind conquer your feet. 
Always your loving son, 

Vinton. 



86 MY GALAHAD 

June 25. 
Dearest Mother : 

I am at a place now where for the 
first time in a month I can take off my 
clothes and change my underclothes, and 
now I can crawl into my sleeping bag again 
too, and that is a luxury, for I have been 
living in a blanket, and I don't have to sleep 
underground. Oh, there are so many things 
to be thankful for, I don't know where to 
start, and yet it is all in the game. I am at 
a town I visited a couple of months ago and 
the people I billeted with recognized me im- 
mediately. Talk about French ! I am so 
rusty I scarcely could ask for eggs I I 
don't believe the Germans like to fight 
against the Americans very well. At least 
they have to be urged pretty hard to get in 
the fight. Well, mother dear, remember I 
am thinking of you constantly and am de- 
pending upon that smile to pull me through. 
Ever lovingly, 

Vinton. 

June 27. 
Dearest Mother : 

I have received two more of your let- 



OF THE TEENCHES 87 

ters, giving me May 22nd, 25th, 28th, 31st, 
June 5th and 8th, so you can see what a for- 
tunate chap I am, and believe me they were 
just feasts and feasts, and to hear you say all 
those nice things 1 Oh, won't it be great 
when we finally see each other 1 Again I 
am where bands play and people laugh and 
dogs bark, so don't worry about me. Oh, it 
is so fine to be living in this age and to be 
doing what I am doing. I have had three 
months of the joy of living, hard at times to be 
sure, but such living as would not ordinarily 
be crowded into as many years. Mother 
dear, I am afraid I have been writing too 
much in my letters. I have been making it 
look as if I were having hardships. At the 
moment they are hard, but this is not all a 
rocky road, and we have times when we can 
fall out on the upward trail and lie under 
some shade tree and look over the broad 
valley of happiness back of us, rich with its 
memories, dotted here and there with groups 
of memorable occasions, and the crossroads 
where we made decisions. Then we see 
joyous fountains where happy moments have 
been spent, and an occasional fountain of 



6S MY GALAHAD 

tears. Old chateaux loom up hid in dark 
green mysterious forests where we once 
roved in fancy, and then there are sunken 
roads where we got in a rut and could not 
see anything. So much for looking back, 
but at this resting-point on the hard upward 
journey one can look forward and see the 
glorious rising sun, the sun of a splendid 
democracy breaking in the east, and in the 
clear morning light the snow on the far dis- 
tant mountains glistens with the splendors of 
the rainbow. It is the good man that 
reaches that goal, but the kero is he who 
having learned the way comes back and 
leads up others. Sometimes when I think 
about getting back to the States and seeing 
you again, it seems as if I could hardly con- 
trol myself. I hope that day isn't far ofi, and 
yet don't think I am slacking any in my 
desire to do my work here, for I realize I 
have hardly begun to be useful after my long 
period of preparation, and I want to be just as 
useful as possible. I love you heaps and heaps. 

Always, 

Vinton 

P. S. Your last letter told me about your 



OF THE TEElsTCHES 89 

plans for the summer, and I think they are 
perfectly lovely. I hope you have the most 
wonderful time possible, for no one deserves 
it more than you, and just think of me as 
being happy in being able to do my little bit 
over here, and keep praying that I do it 
well. There are delicate lines hard to draw. 
Give my love to grandmother and Aunt Annie. 

July I. 
Peggy dear : 

Six months is a long time when one 
considers being away from all ties and all 
old friends, but such is the power of the pen 
and mind over matter, that I have been ex- 
traordinarily fortunate in keeping happy. 
These sunny days are wonderful, and believe 
me I am drinking them in to the utmost 
while I can. Thank you for that lovely 
little pansy that you enclosed in your letter. 
I could just picture its original emplacement 
in your garden, and then the joy it had in 
being picked and admired by you. Since I 
have been here I have received seven of the 
most wonderful letters from mother. They 
have all been corking and cheering. She is 



90 MY GALAHAD 

a wonder. I do not think my cable got 
through. However I am starting it again, 
and hope for better results this time. The 
days are beginning to get shorter again. I 
hope, no, I wish that I might be back before 
the shortest day. It is lots of fun just wish- 
ing for things. One always wishes for things 
one hasn't got, and one might just as well 
make his wishes high. I hear the people in 
the Bronx are thinking it is pretty hard be- 
cause they don't want to save on coal and 
have three hot waterless days a week. Over 
here it is a luxury to have water to wash 
with, let alone hot water. But I have been 
living high lately, roast goose at one meal 
and real doughnuts and flap-jacks. Some- 
times I recall that last evening when you 
came over, and we had such a wonderful 
time together. You remember the little 
compass you gave me. It has been my con- 
stant companion ever since. And I have 
had occasion to use it many times, for di- 
rections are very easily lost, and not only for 
physical directions has it served its purpose, 
but in conjunction with your note I have 
often pondered over it and got my bearings 



OF THE TEENCHES 91 

in other ways. You have been such a won- 
derful help to me, dear little sister, and your 
letters have been so fine. I hope the benefit 
has been passed on to the men under me 

who need it. 

With love, 

Your brother Pink. 

July 3. 
Mother dear : 

To-day is an anniversary again. Six 
months since I left you there in the South 
Station and what a lot we have been ex- 
periencing since then ! Oh, the joy of living 
and seeing things happen, watching the 
wheels of Fortune, how they spin and alter 
circumstances, and to feel that I am a tiny 
part of it, no matter how tiny. I have a 
piece of news I have been wanting to tell 
you. I received the official copy of my 
Divisional Citation to-day, for my work in 
the over-the-top drive May 27th. That 
means that my name has been before the 
Major-General of this Division, and the 
Citation is signed by him for ** conspicuous 
gallantry, etc." It means now that I have 
a reputation to live up to, so I must work 



92 MY GALAHAD 

harder than before to uphold the Citation. 
Mother dear, your letters have been a won- 
derful inspiration to me. If I could tell you 
a small part of what they have meant to me, it 
would use up a great part of the Y. M. C. A. 
stationery in France. May I be worthy of a 
small fraction of the things you write ! To- 
morrow is the Fourth, and I imagine there will 
be great doings in the States. I wish I were 
there so I could be with you for even twenty- 
four hours. What a time we would have ! I 
hope you will have a wonderful summer, and 
don't do too much worrying. I know it is 
hard for you to keep from it, and I know what 
a wonderfully brave little mother you are, and 
I know you will receive your reward. Your 
face is constantly before me and inspires me 
to do my best when the ordinary way is so 
much simpler. Love to grandmother. 

Lovingly, 

Vinton. 



July 4. 
Louise dear : 

To-day is another of those glorious 

Fourths, but this has its special significance 



OF THE TEENCHES 93 

in the closer alliance of all nations fighting 
for democracy. Where we are the few 
French and American flags wave as one, 
and the Y. M. C. A. is giving a small fete to 
the boys under the guiding protection of 
friendly airplanes. Dear little sister, I hope 
you will keep on sending those lovely letters 
of yours, for I enjoy them so much. Tell me 
about yourself and what you are thinking. 
I have a sort of vague unrest, and I almost 
wish I were in the front line again. There 
you don't get time to think too much of 
home, but here where you do see a few girls 
you long for the girls in the States. Since I 
have been in this place I have censored over 
two hundred letters. I am getting to be 
quite a clerk, and as for deciphering other 
men's handwriting, I am getting to be a 
genius at that. Let me hear from you often 
for I do love to get your dear letters. 

Always, 

Vinton. 



July 9. 
Dear Sister Peggy : 

What a wonderful little sister you 



94 MY GALAHAD 

are, and what devoted admirers you have 
scattered all over — and there is one some- 
where in France who thinks you are just 
about perfect. I am surely fortunate to have 
such people as yourself and mother and 
Louise to think about while I am here. 
They say the people you associate with show 
what you are. Well, it is true in the sense 
that they can make or break you, and hence 
it is just as true mentally of the people you 
think about, and I surely can thank God I 
have my friends to think about. Did I tell 
you I had received a Divisional Citation for 
what I did in the first American attack ? I 
think I will put on my service chevron in 
another week now. I have been six months 
in the zone entitling a man to wear one. 
Again I am out of the trenches, and now I 
am trying to get some snap into the platoon. 
I wish I had some of it myself. I am so 
clumsy I trip over my own feet if I am not 
careful. It needs a man who has had years 
of training to train other men. Sometimes I 
do feel discouraged and feel that I am ab- 
solutely rotten at leading the men, and then 
comes along a little bit of encouragement 



OF THE TEENCHES 95 

which helps. Just remember, Peggy dear, 
that whatever happens you have been one 
of the greatest inspirations I have had. 
Always your very devoted brother, 

Pink. 

July 12. 
Mother dearest : 

I could almost write Paris at the head 
of this letter, for on Bastile Day I expect I 
shall review there with the selection from this 
Division. There are only a few from the 
entire Division, so I feel extremely honored, 
not only that I was picked, but having lost 
out once at a toss for going, another position 
was found on the StafT, and I may parade 
mounted. Of course this is mere anticipa- 
tion, and until something has actually taken 
place in the army, there is no valid foundation 
for it. I have reorganized my platoon, and 
it is a difficult task, for I dislike to hurt any 
man's feelings, but you have to do it for the 
good of the whole. I think of you constantly 
and long to be back again where I can look 
at you, and yet this is the place where I 
should be, and I am proud to be here. 



96 MY GALAHAD 

Sometimes I think it is a great deal better to 
be a private in the ranks than a second Heu- 
tenant, but this work has to be done, and I 
shall continue to try and do it to the best of 
my ability. I am getting to be rather large 
without realizing it, for I see men that I think 
are large, and I find that I am bigger than 
they are. What a tremendous cause we are 
fighting for, and how seldom we think of the 
big issues at stake. That is, some of us over 
here ! We see the small things in such an 
all-important light. I will finish this letter in 
Paris. Heaps of love, and love to grand- 
mother. 

Vinton. 

P. S. I will tell you about the Parade later. 

I was in it with flying colors. ** Vive les 

Americaines" was all you could hear, and 

we were smothered with bouquets. I was 

on a horse at the head of the column acting 

as a Staff Officer. " Beaucoup honor" for 

little Pink ! Heaps of love, and it was all 

for you, Darlingest. 

Vinton. 



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